When a Man of Iron meets a Dark Knight
by James Connoct
Summary: Playboy billionaire Tony Stark has something that businessman Bruce Wayne wants... very badly. This may lead to the greatest duel ever seen between heroes. But even after their prior disagreements, they will find ways to work together. Please, comment and review! I will be posting updates for the story as it goes, so enjoy!


It had always bothered him that Steve had been able to identify what he was willing, or unwilling to do, so quickly. Tony had figured it was an old people thing at first, and then later on had gotten distinctly annoyed with the Captain's keen "people sense". So much so that the two had nearly come to blows over it. Until, of course, the man with a posh British accent wielding a giant spear of death had popped in and tried to control the universe. Tony gave a sardonic half-smile. Funny, really. That the appearance of a deranged Asgardian would prove the good Captain wrong. Stark turned to face the windows looking out on the cityscape in front of his office.

Sometimes, he still remembered those last couple seconds. Those moments when all had seemed so... surreal. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe, and it seemed like a pillow had been pressed into his face. He had closed his eyes, and waited for the end to come. What had changed? He and the Avengers could easily have gotten out of the doomed city within the minute, taken Pepper with them. Instead, Tony had nearly killed himself to ensure the life of others. Steve had later told him that he didn't expect it. Frankly, neither had he. Tony sighed deeply, rubbed his brow.

"Jarvis, do me a favor, get a drink. Something… cold."

"Right away, sir."

Within the minute, a chilled glass of wine was delivered to his tabletop a couple feet behind him. The founder of Stark Industries sat and drank deeply, appreciatively. For a moment, all seemed right with the world. Of course, it would help if Pepper were here instead of away on business, but… his load was off his shoulders for now. Tony closed his eyes, set down the glass, and breathed deeply with a slight smirk on his face. Within the moment, he was asleep.

"…Sir! Mister Stark, wake up please. You have a visitor." Stark woke to Jarvis' voice rudely interrupting his sleep, but he kept his eyes tightly closed as he reached for his now lukewarm drink, bringing it up to his mouth and savoring the taste. "Then unless the visitor is Jesus walking on water down the Mississippi River and turning whatever substance is at hand into wine, tell them I'm not here or that I'm busy." Jarvis' voice broke into his office again, this time with an insistent tone to it. "Sir, the visitor is Mister Bruce Wayne."

Tony promptly sputtered and choked on his Pinot Noir. "W-what? Did you say Wayne?"

"Yes, sir. Shall I call him into your office?"

Tony considered meeting the man in his lounge, but then thought better of it. "Yes.", he muttered, and then pulled up every tidbit of data available on his guest. Not that there was much of it. Frankly, there wasn't much to say about him, other than that he was filthy rich. And… hmm. _That _was interesting. Billions of dollars spent on… what, exactly? That money just drained into noting, and even Tony's hacking procedures couldn't find exactly where that currency had been dumped. "Well, then again, they do say he smokes hundred dollar bill cigars.", Tony murmured. Suddenly, the door to his gray-white-black office hissed open.

"Mister Wayne, pleasure to meet you, considering you never step out of Gotham city to say 'hi' to the rest of the world. Speaking of which, I heard there was some kind of supervillain on the streets… thought you'd still be there trying to take care of that. You know, with the billions of inherited dollars at your disposal."

Bruce Wayne gave a half smile. The man was about Tony's height, graced with suave looks and, Stark guessed, the brilliant skills of an actor. Every rich man alive had to have them. Entirely necessary for press interviews, board meetings and of course, the inevitable swarm of women. But something about the man told Stark that the thirty-five year old was _always _acting. There was a certain… hardness in him, in his stance. Tony almost assumed it was because of Wayne's parents' deaths. That would make sense. But something else added to it. The smile Bruce gave as he shook Stark's hand didn't reach his eyes. Tony sighed inwardly as he re-took his seat. He'd find out later… he always did.

Wayne took the seat across from him, replying to Tony's earlier statement. "I did take care of that, Stark. The 'Scarecrow', as the press likes to call him, is gone." Tony's eyebrows raised as the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "Right then. What was his power, exactly? Dressing like a straw man? Or was it more Wizard of Oz style, and he was just on a quest to find his brains?" Bruce's face hardened, and Tony noted that he looked slightly angered as he swept his hands through his hair, exhaling sharply. Stark smirked in self-satisfaction as he pulled up a holographic display and began to gather all the data he could find on the "Scarecrow". "Nope, I was wrong. He didn't have any powers at all, just drugs. Huh. So, what happened to the big guy in the suit during all this? They're giving him credit. And you seem to be strangely absent in all this, according to Gotham city records." Wayne's eyebrows pulled together, eyes sparking dangerously.

"Stark, you aren't supposed to know any of this." Tony smiled cordially, sipping his glass of wine. "Well, Mr. Wayne, that's the interesting part of all of this. Besides, as far as I can tell, a city going to Hell in a hog cart shouldn't be complaining about my possible interests in helping it out." The inheritor of Wayne foundations flicked a speck of dust off his shoulder. "That's far enough, Stark. This isn't why I came here, and I couldn't care less about the Batman or the Scarecrow. I want to know what it's going to take for me to get into the clean energy project you're running." Tony flashed his "billionaire smile", as Pepper liked to call it.

"Clean energy project?"

"Stark Tower. Got wrecked recently. I know you're going to sell it eventually, but have you ever thought about other people for once?"

Tony considered this for a moment. "As a matter of fact, Bruce, I have. When I successfully privatized world peace through the Iron Man project, and when I nearly died in space because of alien invaders. That and the nuclear explosion form the warhead I carried into space to save New York and eventually the world. On the other hand…" Tony paused for a second, glancing up at the ceiling for effect. "I understand that your contributions to our world _far _outweigh mine in general. With all the orphanages you've started in Gotham city, and money you've poured into… yourself and… your interests, I and my humble achievements like saving the world, the US, New York, freedom herself, and the world again- not to mention toppling several regimes single-handedly- can hardly stand up to a humanitarian philanthropist like you."

Suddenly, Wayne's voice dropped to a low rumble and a hard edge seemed covered by a thin veil. Tony remained relatively unimpressed. "Stark, I have done more good than you know, or are capable of. Do not suggest that I've sat idly back. Now, I want to discuss the clean energy project that powers Stark Tower. How can I get in?"

Tony considered that for two full seconds, one eyebrow raised as he pressed his hands together in thought. "Uhhh, you can't. Sorry. That belongs to Stark Industries. And now that we've got that taken care of, you can take your leave. Thanks for coming, drop by for a drink sometime when you're not busy."

Bruce frowned, replying slowly. "Stark, if you give this technology to me, you can change the world for the better. For the good of everybody, worldwide, not just yourself. You'd become a hero. I can pay you whatever you want, maybe even swap some tech of my own." Tony placed his chin in the cup of one of his hands, lazily using the other to flick open an internet page on his holographic display, then pulling up a video of a man getting his hair and beard cut to match Tony's own. From there, he opened up various other pages on the web of people getting Iron Man tattoos, 'I heart Stark" shirts, and other propaganda that had popped up around the world after the first Avengers team movement.

"I'd say I already am a hero, wouldn't you? And Bruce, as much as I respect your ideals, your happy-happy-joy-joy vision for the future, this is a _clean energy fission _system we're talking about. Frankly, for the right price, I might already have sold it to the world. But your vision can't happen. This could just as easily be turned into a bomb of massive proportions, with untold destruction involved. For now, it's off limits. Maybe in five years when it's safe to give out. Until then, it stays here with me, and it can be re-routed through New York. And as much as I trust your intentions, I can't let that happen. Not to mention the massive amounts of profits taken away from me. So, sorry. It's mine."

Wayne cocked his head, eyes narrowed as if seeing Stark for the first time. "So there is one unselfish streak in you after all. But Tony, I wouldn't let that happen. I could store it… I don't know, underground, make sure nobody ever knows about it even being there. And we'd both be happy."

The founder of Stark industries shook his head once before stretching luxuriously. "No. Wayne, I can't let you do it. Thanks for visiting." The man across from him straightened his tie and business suit and stood before slowly leaning across the table. Slightly taller than Tony when standing, he appeared to tower over the other businessman. "Stark, I know you're just doing this to turn a profit, especially when it comes to Stark Tower. Turn over the clean energy plans, and the world could benefit, not just one self-centered person. I'm _urging _you to reconsider… I have powerful friends, none of which you want to anger."

"Self-centered?" Tony shrugged as best he could in his seat. "Accurate, really. But not this time. And sure, you have friends. But I'm Iron Man." Bruce brought his face to Tony's level, only inches away. "Last chance. I _need _this, Stark. Gotham might go under without it."

Stark smirked, but the self-satisfactory twist of the lips didn't reach his eyes. There, a fire burned, indignant and dangerous. "Right, Bruce. What are _you_ going to do, though? Cry to your parents?"

That hit Wayne where it hurt, Tony could tell. The man's dark eyes narrowed, and he could literally hear fists tightening. Stark naturally tensed up, preparing for the blow that would follow the unrepressed rage in Bruce's face. And… nothing. Once again, Wayne's face changed into that mask of non-emotion as he stood, coldly and quickly leaving the room. Jarvis' voice rang out again, startling Tony out of his thoughts. "Sir, that might not have been entirely the best idea."

Stark stood, shaking the stiffness from his joints before he too exited the room, glancing down the hall after Wayne's retreating back before walking in the other direction. "He needed to be put in his place, Jarvis. Wish it had ended differently." Tony sighed, and mentally reached into himself, finding the little upgrades that the Extremis virus had given him. He almost smirked at the thought that among every other potential war machine-esque upgrade he could have "installed" into himself, he had chosen to give himself a pull-up time display. Tony grimaced. "Whoa. 6:30 already? Time flies when you're making fun of emotionally scarred stuck-up inheritors." Stark chuckled to himself before loping into the elevator, slumping against the far wall, and letting it take him up to his own personal floor.

Something had drained from him during that conversation, or maybe… the billionaire paused. Did he feel _guilty? _Why would he feel guilt, of all things? Stark scratched at his chin, blinking twice in confusion. And as quickly as he did so, the small pit in his stomach disappeared. "Huh." He murmured, stepped from the elevator, and made for the nearest bed.  
_

It was eleven fifteen at night when the dark figure stepped from the shadows, standing in front of the entrance to Stark Tower. The large sliding doors in front of him were being monitored, he knew. If he so much as touched them, it would set off multiple alarms, knowing Stark. Although the inventor may pretend to be careless, the Dark Knight who stood as a stone sentinel in the path knew better. It was much like Wayne's outward appearance as a careless billionaire, when the truth couldn't have been far enough away. Which, the man behind the mask decided, was a smart move. No rich man could truly be himself when publicity was involved, or the media and whatever enemies said man might have, would find his weaknesses, and exploit them.

Hence, so many defenses around everything, making the real man behind the billionaire's mask almost unreachable, and the possessions within his grasp almost untouchable. Almost. One side of the shadowy figure's mouth twitched. "Detonate." He murmured. Then… nothing. No bang, no sudden light. Nothing happened except the discreet and completely silent explosion of two EMP bombs set at either side of the doors of Stark Tower. They opened quietly, and the man inside the black suit calmly entered, for a moment illuminated by the light of the moon before velvet blackness cloaked him. For a moment, one could glimpse the tall muscled physique of the stranger, the flexible black body armor that seemed to attract shadows, forming a helmet that concealed the man's identity, two pointed ears protruding from an otherwise smooth top, giving him the appearance of a frightening predator. The only place where skin could be seen was around his mouth, the only thing that gave him away as a mere human, or even mortal, for even the way he moved seemed to emanate otherworldly power and grace. Then, a cloak as dark as the night hid him from view, the only trace of his existence the breath of air disturbed in his passing. The cameras throughout the tower suddenly blacked out, and Wayne Enterprises released an untraceable virus into Stark Tower's systems. In other words, the man simply disappeared.

The stranger's suit systems were more advanced than one would have guessed. Small pieces of dark glass clicked over the eyeholes, and night vision systems came online with a small humming sound, allowing the black lobby to be illuminated. As the black-outfitted man swept noiselessly through the lower floors of Stark Tower, it became clear that he was looking for something, something that his actions communicated he needed urgently, for the good of a failing city, and eventually for the good of mankind. He knew that he had to be quick, and silent… every second wasted was another chance for detection by what the cloaked man knew were highly advanced systems, even if Bruce Wayne's virus kept them at bay. Inaudibly, the near-invisible figure searched, floor by floor, wall to wall, for any sign of what he was looking for…  
The Batman was on the hunt.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. A datapad near the top of the building laying on top of a desk laying out the schematics of Stark Tower. In the pitch-black, the light from the device shone like a beacon and the Cloaked Crusader dared not look much longer. Finally, he simply pulled a tool from his belt, and stuck it into the pad, waited all of one second for it to upload, and powered the datapad off. Then, he pulled up the schematics for the tower on a small, much smaller and much less light-producing screen on the upper part of his gauntlet. But it made no mention to a smaller chamber in which a clean energy source might be kept. However… there was a cryptic reference as to where an access to one might be found. Frustration filled the Dark Knight's mind as he realized he'd have to brave the heart of the Tower… the access panel was located somewhere on the 51rst floor of the building- the personal deck of Anthony Howard Stark.

Bruce Wayne would have quit then, if not for the need of his city. Batman would not.

It was by complete chance that Tony had been having troubled dreams that night. It was also by complete chance that he decided, with his bed being suffocatingly comfortable that night, he decided to sleep inside the lounge. Once again, his time in the Middle-East was plaguing him. Yensen was dead, but his face still came up in Tony's dreams. Stark easily remembered those days, when every day had been a constant fight to survive without the terrorist cell holding them discovering what they were really working on. And at night, since there was only one cot, Yensen would take the cot even days, and Tony had it on the odds. Coincidentally, tonight was an odd, and the inventor couldn't close his eyes without seeing the body of his friend riddled with bullet holes, his life sacrificed for Tony's. This was one of those nights when he dreamed that the two had both died, or worse yet, that Yensen had been alive when Tony left, and that the base burned down with Tony still trying to reach the man. But he was always too late, and he would always wake moments later clutching the reactor in his chest, mid-yell.

So, he wandered the halls of Stark Tower, wishing Pepper were there. She usually knew how to help him out, but… she wasn't, of course, and Tony didn't particularly want to risk her wrath at eleven at night because he had a bad dream. Eventually, he sat down on the sofa in his game room, and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overtake his grief-filled mind. It never did. All that happened was a slight "beep" from his wristwatch, and Tony knew better than to take it for an anomaly. So he closed his eyes, thanking himself for the decision to hook up with Stark Tower's security feeds when he'd taken the Extremis virus, which had made him stronger, faster, and allowed him to carry the inner layers of his suit within himself. So nothing really surprised him when, lo and behold, he saw that every camera inside of his Tower was static filled. "I doubt the girlscouts are selling cookies at this hour." Tony murmured. "But… knock, knock, who's there?" Stark asked himself, rising from his seat with a sudden energy in his limbs. Then, he waited.

The Dark Knight entered the 51st floor through an air vent, dropping as silent as a wraith onto the hard wooden floor. Which meant he was close to his objective. Now all that remained was to find the hatch, the elevator, or whatever else that kept the place sealed. Once again, he began his methodical search of the room, sweeping through the place from wall to wall, sometimes blending entirely into his surroundings as shadows crossed over his form. The room he had dropped into was empty, then. Even when he did a quick check to see if any of the walls might contain something, there was nothing. So he moved onto the next, a huge lobby with a large minibar in the center. Across from it, two large glass double doors that led out onto a walkway. On its left, a large flatscreen TV surrounded by different large stuffed couches with game systems piled in the cabinet that held it up. On the right, pool table, poker tables, anything that involved gambling. The black-cloaked figure cocked head, near imperceptibly. Tony Stark obviously was a man of leisure at times.

But the most surprising part about the room was not anything having to do with Stark's pastimes. Rather, more with his alter-ego. Not that the man needed any more ego, the cloaked figure decided. He had enough to spare. The thing was, in the far back of the room stood seven different display cases. And each held a pristine suit of armor: the Iron Man armor. The man behind the black helmet, Bruce Wayne, was tempted to take an analysis of the armor, and find out how it worked. But Batman, on the other hand, had no interest in Stark's work. His purpose was to find what he was looking for, and remove himself from the Tower without being discovered. He turned away, and continued to search, his intensity never overpowering his cautious nature.

"I'll give you credit, the EMP bombs were a nice trick." The voice of Tony Stark rang out from behind him. When the Dark Knight turned, the lights in the room clicked on, and the inventor stood only ten feet away from him, arms crossed with a bemused smile on his face, clad only in some jeans and a sleeveless tee, the light of his arc reactor shining through the thin fabric from his chest. "But I probably wouldn't have released that virus that took down Jarvis. I did catch an alarm from that in the millisecond he had before that very high grade tech got him- nice work on that by the way-, and gave me a little time to think about what exactly people would be doing calling at this hour. And now, based on your current attire, I have come to the conclusion that you are _not _a girlscout. But on the off chance that you are, I prefer thin mint." Suddenly, a look of confusion filled the inventor's face as he absent-mindedly scratched his goatee with one hand.

"But you've got me confused here, y'know. If you're supposed to be some sort of superhero, can I ask what superpower you have? Bat fetish? I'll admit, _that_ I have not seen before. Although I'd imagine it _does _take a certain amount of courage, that or stupidity, probably stupidity now that I think about it, to dress up like a bat-crazed lunatic and go breaking into the home of the world's most powerful billionaire. That said, since you're here, why don't you grab a drink while you explain what playhouse you took your little Batsuit there from?"

The glass pieces that covered Batman's eyes clicked up, and the two near-black orbs behind them narrowed. When he spoke, a gravelly voice that might have scared a lesser man than Tony Stark rumbled across the room. "Turn over the power source. I don't want to hurt you." Stark broke into a full smile, showcasing perfect white teeth while giving a chuckle. "Uhh… could you repeat that last part? I couldn't hear it over the pint of battery acid you must have drunk at some point in your life."

The dark figure took two threatening steps forward. Stark stood his ground, even as the intruder grew within an arm's length. "Last chance, Stark." Tony's smile widened. "'Blargablean.'" He said, lowering his voice to a ridiculous level to mimic the Dark Knight's. "You know, you should really get that checked out by a doctor. You smoke mu- OOMPH!" Batman moved at otherworldly speeds, and his first strike caught the Inventor square in the stomach, sending him crashing into the minibar, wheezing. "Good swing, bats." He coughed, holding his stomach and squeezing in shallow breaths through his mouth. "But I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. Pleasure having you." Batman's next strike hit the wood, and Tony suddenly wasn't crumpled against the minibar. Instead, he was rolling into a combat position, rubbing his ribs. "Alright then. Your funeral."

The other man noted that Stark was fast. Faster than he should have been. In fact, if he had been any faster, the next kick wouldn't have swept his legs from under him. Batman had devoted his life to becoming the pinnacle of human fitness, and his reflexes showed it. Tony's face showed surprise, but as the Dark Knight descended upon him, he remembered what Steven Rogers had taught him. He put one knee up, and blocked the Batman's right hook, trading it for a sudden punch, causing Tony's assailant to double over. He started to push a counterattack, but after his first hit, the only thing that happened was a complete and total domination of Stark.

Batman was amazingly quick, and could keep up with Tony even with the Extremis' effects on his body. Tony would have shuddered to think what would happen if he didn't have the virus with him, but all he could do was yelp in pain as the Dark Knight grabbed his fist, and began to crush his knuckles together, expertly deflecting his next blow and headbutting Stark with the extremely hard helmet he wore… Tony saw stars.

The "fight", if either man wanted to call it that, lasted all of thirty seconds, in most of which Tony was being slammed around like a rag doll, any contact he made with the cloaked man only giving the briefest of respites.

The Caped Crusader gave a grim smile. He'd force Stark to tell him where the device was eventually. "WHERE IS IT?" he roared, spittle flecking Tony's face. Stark would have moved his head away, but he was currently pinned to the wall, blood trickling down his face. Finally he groaned something nearly indistinct. "It's… behind you." He mumbled, and slumped forward, limp. The Dark Knight released him, allowing Tony to fall face-first on the floor. Then, he turned around.

_Impact. _

Batman flew backwards with a muffled grunt, and landed hard, back first on the floor. Above him, he faintly saw something fly over him and connect with where he had last left Stark. When he rolled backwards and stood, swaying slightly, Iron Man stood across from him, one hand raised with the palm open. "Hi there." A cold voice said. Then, the repulsor fired, connecting square with Wayne's chest and causing him to stumble backwards, at a loss for breath. When he looked up again, the armor had literally given way to armaments in every possible nook and cranny, missiles, wires, lasers, and even a couple rockets pointed in his direction, the red-and-gold suit humming and whirring as Iron Man approached. "Take off the helmet, and stand down."

The cloaked man did neither. The glass over his eyes clicked down again, as did another portion of the helmet, sealing off his nose and mouth. The lights blacked out with a sudden "pop" sound. Inside his helmet, Tony smiled. "Really now? You think darkness is going to help you out here?" Stark switched the helmet's view to heat signature recognition and night vision, scanning across the room. Nothing. "Jarvis, talk to me!" Tony called. Static in response, but he could have sworn that he heard a slight voice pattern there. Iron Man turned, still looking for the cloaked intruder, but still got no better results. He was good, Stark would give him that. But not good enough. "Jarvis, if you can hear me, I want all subsystems that aren't critically important in Stark Tower re-routed to tracking down that virus. Oh, and turn the lights o-!"

An EMP bomb detonated midair in front of him, but all Tony did was smile, checking his suit systems and seeing they were all untouched. Then, he turned in the direction of the bomb's detonation. "Good try. You're gonna have to step it up though, because Mk. 7's systems are kinda immune to EMP bombs."

"Okay." Stark shot up in surprise. Literally, he shot up. The suit's repulsors activated and he flew approximately five feet before halting himself and thanking his foresight to make Stark Tower's ceilings abnormally high. Something bounced off his armor, leaving a slight scratch. He analyzed the impact. Was that a… a bat-shaped throwing knife? "Alright, enough." He muttered, activating every possible light source on his armor. In a couple seconds, Iron Man was a walking flashlight. "Ta-daa!"

This, unfortunately, made him rapidly obvious to the dark figure hanging on the ceiling above him. When he dropped, the telltale "clunk!" of metal on metal rang throughout the room, the bottoms of his boots making solid contact with Stark's head. For any other man, that blow would have resulted in a concussion and possible death. However, Stark was not any other man, evidenced by his split-second reaction time and next punch. Batman dodged it, swaying like a reed in the wind as his upper body shifted back, allowing the armor-plated fist to swing through the air with the force of an oncoming train. He watched until Tony's arm was extended completely, then made his move. Grasping Iron Man's wrist with his left hand, he smoothly twisted it clockwise, bending Stark over in pain. Then, he lifted his right elbow and brought it smashing down on the suit's exposed elbow, simultaneously kicking savagely at the faceplate of the suit.

The first blow to his elbow plating was painful, but didn't result in a broken arm. It did, however, send a painful tingling sensation up his arm and into his spine, and as Tony glanced up at his armor status indicator, he guessed that whoever was behind that suit had designed it to be semi-effective at countering _his _suit's specifications. Not that he thought he was in danger from the other man. As the Dark Knight raised his fist again, Tony remembered he had his right hand free. So he stuck it across his body, raised his repulsors power to 40 percent, and fired. The Batman released his arm, stumbling backwards with a sudden yell of pain as pure energy discharged into his chest. The beam hadn't been supposed to kill the other man, just wound him, but as Tony stood he found that the chest piece of the suit was actually _absorbing _the electrical charge and energy of the repulsor… to a point. It still put the man in pain. So Stark curled his fist, and hit Batman with a savage right.

For some reason, Tony found it laughable as the Dark Knight spun a pirouette, cape swishing about his body, and landed on the floor wheezing and coughing. The faceplate of the suit peeled back, revealing a bloodied Tony Stark underneath it. "Alright Count Dracula. Ankles together, hands over your head, belly down on the floor." Tony held up one hand, the repulsor glowing blindingly white. "Or else this repulsor will take you out. Well, actually, so could this missile, this rocket, or _this, _because it was designed to take out a tank."

From the floor, the Dark Knight began to obey. He twisted over on his belly, crossed his ankles, and… Tony Stark's next five seconds were spent in pain due to Batman's sudden kick, nearly standing on his hands and lashing out with both feet. The visor of the Iron Man suit slammed down in a permanent frown of disapproval, just in time to protect the wearer from a cross to the face with a metal hook, which bounced off the armor with a clang. Then, Batman simply took out his grappling hook, and laced around the legs of the suit twice, before pulling it taut with a grunt of exertion.

The floor literally shook as Stark Fell face-first, cracking the hard wood floor and causing the suit to black for a moment. The other man stooped, taking another length of high-stress resistant cord, and looped it around Iron Man's hands. Then, he slammed Stark's head into the ground several times before slamming a gauntlet into his neck, putting his face to Stark's as he roared, "WHERE IS IT?"

Tony roared in pain from inside the suit, and mumbled something incoherent as he turned his attention to the technology on the batsuit. _Whoa. _That had to cost a lot, he realized. It was Kevlar and some other material that was ultra-resistant. As far as Stark could tell from the specs, it could take anything short of a grenade. He was slightly distracted by the sudden slamming of his head into the ground, and the turning of his gauntlets from green to yellow on his suit indicator, when he realized that suddenly, the lights were flickering on.

"Jarvis, in a hurry here. Can't use lethal force. Help." This time, the mechanical voice inside Stark's suit mumbled something just incoherent. Tony opened one hand, turned up the power on his gauntlets.

Nothing.

Tony's armor indicator went from yellow to red, and his repulsors sputtered weakly. Batman was now straddling him, pummeling his head to either side. Stark began to return the favor as best he could with his hands tied together. _Oh, right. _Iron Man snapped both cords as easily as if they were string, and hammered the intruder's abdomen, hearing the slight 'crack' of ribs. Then, his helmet's integrity began to fail. The Dark Knight suddenly put two hands over the eye slits in the Iron Man's armor. Not that it impeded his vision- just that he suddenly saw his energy levels drop.

"It's a bit of Stark Tech." the gravelly voice murmured as his armor went dark. Tony knew what would happen. The armor's user-preservation system would remove the helmet's visor… which it did. The face piece lifted to reveal a shocked Tony Stark.

"You stole my tech?" The Batman lifted himself, pulling Tony as a dead weight with him. The lights slowly flickered on Iron Man, giving a nice lighting as he was smashed into a wall. "I did. Now. Tell me where the power source is." One black-gloved fist lifted in a threatening motion. And Tony laughed. "Hey, JARVIS… who is this guy?" he asked, seemingly to the air. The Dark Knight tensed, suddenly realizing that the lights around the room were back up.

"Mister Bruce Wayne, sir."

Tony sputtered from inside his suit. "_What." _

Jarvis repeated himself again. "Sir, the Batman is mister Bruce Wayne." _Of course. It makes sense now, _Stark thought. How the other billionaire had seemed so hardened, where all the money went. And the man in front of him, helmet still on, growled. Stark sighed. "Well, Bruce… it's been fun, but _nobody _steals my tech." Tony's armor powered back on, and this time, he simply re-routed Jarvis' systems to release a virus into the Batman's armor, destroying any traces of Stark technology that were there. Then, his visor snapped back down, lights, weak though they were, whirred into existence in the eye pieces, and Iron Man lifted both hands, palms on Batman's chest. For a moment, nothing happened- the suit was still weak- and Batman stared down at Tony, who still was still apparently groping his pecs.

"Well. This is awkward."

_**Boom! **_

Batman flew back like a missile, landing awkwardly against a pool table- limp and unconscious. "There we go." Stark slowly walked forward, crouched by the other man, and lifted the helmet from the armor. "Well. I'll be damned, it is Bruce." Tony now had an option, he realized. He could tell the world who was behind Batman, or… he could let him go. Stark raised one hand, ready to broadcast the picture of the billionaire's face inside the Batman's suit, to tell the world… and halted. _He was right. He did do something deserving of gratitude, saved Gotham. Maybe not the world, but… the world needs more heroes. _

Tony patted Bruce's face softly with an armored hand, waiting until he woke up. "Bruce, congratulations, you've avoided public embarrassment. As it is, I'll just say that I kicked your sorry butt, and nobody will know it's you under there. On the other hand, you've also persuaded me that perhaps you're worthy of something." The inventor paused, raised one gauntlet and projected a hologram of a device of some sort, which Bruce looked wearily upon.

"This is a prototype of the clean energy device I use. It's flawed inherently, will never be able to power anything bigger than a city, much less a state, country, or world, and you'll never be able to improve on it. But… consider it a gift for Gotham. Originally, Bruce, I wasn't going to give it to you. Or anybody else, not unless that somebody deserved it. Which, y'know, nobody but me does. Maybe Captain Rogers, since he's too old to know what to do with it anyways, but other than him? Nah. Hell, _especially _not you, since you're a stuck up billionaire who'd probably just abuse it. But the Batman? I figure if he needs to piggyback off of Stark tech to fight, he's out of date. Maybe a good guy. Long story short, nobody was going to get it, not unless they needed it for a good reason." Tony made a face, raising his right eyebrow with a self-satisfied smirk. "So, I figure he could have a prototype… which I can self-destruct, and if he abuses it like I think he might, _smile!" _

Tony's armor made a small sound, and as Stark spoke, he snapped a single picture of Bruce. "So, now that I've insured you won't do anything stupid, go home. Pop in sometime for a drink, Bats." Stark rose, dropped the helmet in Bruce's lap, and slowly returned to his armor stand, where his armor removed itself. The Batman slowly rose again, and staggered towards a window. Stark raised a hand, shattered it with a repulsor as a final favor, watched as Bruce donned the helmet of the Dark Knight once more, and turned away.

"Idiot." He murmured. "Breaking into my tower." Tony smirked again, and returned to his couch, letting Jarvis take care of the broken equipment. There, he slept until morning, happy that he'd finally managed to do something fair and right.


End file.
